


Equanimity

by nicovasnormandy



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Suicide Squad (2016), Suicide Squad (Comics)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2019-03-29 19:47:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13934031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicovasnormandy/pseuds/nicovasnormandy
Summary: June dreamt of a rainbow submerged with festering black rot and a planet overrun with decay.(she will never be alone)





	Equanimity

**Author's Note:**

> part one of three
> 
> conglomerate of all appearances

_“Nightmares and white lies_  
_Shadows behind my eyes_  
_The beast within leaves me terrified_  
_I’ve tried to let it fade_  
_The monster I’ve made_  
_But it’s creeping in from all sides._ ” — Shadows, The Aviators

 

Serpentine tendrils of black energy exploded inches from her heart like an exploding star of sheer magical might and then she was falling into herself and to the solid earth below. _Her_ gasp died on impact and _she_ took a breath, churned from the depths of her lungs, which tore hungrily through her chest. She ached, ears ringing as the vestiges of demonic magic washed out of her system only to leave her mind oily and _singular_.

Voices shouted over the ringing. She recognized those of her teammates among them. 

“Wowie, got the witch knocked right outta ya, huh?” Harley Quinn leaned into her field of vision, her smile brighter than the situation warranted. “Guess it’s a good thing the rest of us ducked and covered when you and crow-girl decided to go nuclear.”

She accepted Harley’s outstretched hand and let herself be pulled to her feet. Her stomach lurched. She was only kept from going back down face first by Harley’s steadying hands on her shoulders. “You alright there Junie? Ya look like you’re about tah puke or somethin’.”

“I’m okay,” June said, shaken.

“Don’t puke on me,” Harley said, more amusement at her expense than was necessary. “Come on, let’s go and get ya outta here.”

June’s legs wobbled for the first few steps, but soon she found her strength and let Harley march her to… wherever they were going. The dull throbbing of a headache quickly made its way through her spine and settled behind her eyes. She remembered being dispatched with the rest of the squad for some inane, needlessly life-risking task and standing behind Croc when the plan had gone awry (as had become so expected it bordered on cliché) with the sudden appearance of a very adversarial group of Titans. 

She had squared off against Raven—well not she but _Her_ —when something about their colliding magic had conflicted and then… 

“An’ right through here, watch your step,” Harley moved her through an open gate—a park, they had been fighting in a park—and toward what looked like a sidewalk very occupied with pedestrians. 

“Where… are we going?”

“We’re gettin’ sprung,” Harley said, “Well, we’re doin’ the springing ourselves. So self-sprung, I guess.”

“Springing?” June’s mind felt more sluggish than her feet. “Hold on. You mean… we’re leaving?”

“I mean, sure, yeah, you could put it that way,” Harley maneuvered her into a group of surprised onlookers. “It’s not like we voluntarily enlisted tho, so it ain’t like we’re draft dodgin’ or nothin’. We’re just… takin’ an extended leave of absence. Without permission. No big!”

“No _big_?” June dug her feet into the concrete and nearly toppled over when Harley kept walking as if she could phase through her. “Harley, we _can’t_. Our lives are literally on the line.”

“Aw, you’re worried about little ol’ me?” Harley pulled her into an unexpectedly tight embrace. “You are such a sweetie! But don’t worry,” she put her at an arm’s length and held to her shoulders tight, “our little Life Alert brain chips have fallen an’ they can’t get up.”

June’s head throbbed.

“They’ve been decomished,” Harley continued. “Ex-nayed. Cut. Dispensed of. Made obsolete. They’re bonafied useless.”

“But… how?”

Harley’s grin grew wide and far too much like a different, similarly themed criminal from Gotham. “Duh! You. And Goose Girl. But she and I ain’t exactly on speakin’ terms, what with me throwing that dynamite at her face when she popped in outta nowhere like a mystic Michael Myers in a swanky dress.”

“I don’t…” They had attracted a sizeable amount of attention by stopping and standing in the middle of the gathered onlookers who had come to see the Titans fight. June was certain she heard someone correctly identify Harley, while another called for someone to get the police.  


“I don’t do the magic, but I know what I see. Trust me on this,” Harley had noticed the attention as well. “Now, we better scram before Big Mama comes collectin’.”

“But, I—”

“Look, doll. Come or don’t. I’m helpin’ ya because by knocking these things loose you helped me. This is a women supporting women situation. I’ll get ya outta here if ya want. Orrrrr you can go back to Belle Reve and enjoy Gertie’s Monday Magic Meatloaf. Your call.”

June looked back toward the park where an assortment of news crews and police convened. One of the Titans—Starfire, she believed—had taken to the sky and appeared to be searching for someone. Quite possibly Harley and herself. She looked back to Harley and her dopey smile and felt the bottom of her stomach fall out.

“Monday Magic Meatloaf really will make me puke.”

“Atta girl!”

 

========

 

Twenty minutes later June was an escaped convict, accessory to grand theft auto and riding shotgun in a stolen convertible. She was astounded when they cleared city limits without every cop in a thirty-mile radius on their tail, because nothing said ‘stealth’ like a stolen hot-red sports car.

Harley let out a whoop and threw her hands in the air, nearly taking them off the road and ending their great escape prematurely. “Oh my gawd, that was so much fun! I haven’t been car shoppin’ in forever.”

“I think what just happened wouldn’t be considered ‘ _car shopping_ ’. That usually involves an exchange with money,” not that June herself could be excused. She’d been a bystander as Harley hotwired the car right in front of her and then willingly took the passenger seat when prompted. For what it was worth, she felt guilty about it.

“Mm, second-hand shopping then,” Harley adjusted the oversized designer sunglasses she’d immediately found in the glove compartment, like some expensive-accessory finding bloodhound. “It just feels so good to be free, don’tcha think? Wind in your hair, sun on your face, fly in your mouth—uggh achh!”

She didn’t have an answer for that. She folded her hands into her lap and watched the landscape roll by. The top of the convertible was up when they first found it, but as soon as they pulled onto the highway Harley had dropped it and now the wind teased their hair and caressed their faces. It made June’s nose itch. 

At least Harley seemed to be right about the bombs implanted in their brains. If they were still in effect—especially hers—they would have been headless before they’d ever reached the city limits. Waller didn’t play well with others, and she wasn’t the sort of woman who tolerated losing. If a report of their desertion had reached her then she would have already pulled the trigger—theirs and any of her other pawns. 

The Other was strangely quiet on the subject. 

Harley fiddled with the radio until she recognized a song. She leaned back and sang along, off-key. June glanced over to her impromptu partner in crime and was a little taken with the sight: Harley’s hair fluttered behind her like golden light, her smile warm. Her happiness looked genuine. She looked… free.

June ignored the jealousy that stirred in her heart and looked back to the rapidly passing scenery. She didn’t want to linger on the negative thoughts that flashed through her mind like heat lightning. She couldn’t risk giving Her any more power than she already had. The voice in the back of her mind had ceased whispering, but she still felt it there like a laden weight. It was quiet, but still breathing. 

“Talkin’ to your friend?”

“We’re not friends,” June snapped. Harley’s grin told her that it was supposed to be a joke. A really unfunny one, she guessed. “No. It’s… quiet, right now.”

“That’s always nice,” Harley sighed wistfully. “Mine won’t shut up.”

“At least yours aren't trying to control you body," June muttered, then immediately felt a flush of shame. “I’m sorry. That was... I didn’t mean—”

“Nah, you’re not wrong. Mine are just annoying. They’re pretty benign in the grand scheme of things.”

“They… are?”

“Sure. At least they don’t wield phenomenal cosmic power in an itty-bitty living space.”

“Phenomenal…” June turned her attention back to her companion. “Did you just compare Her to the Genie from _Aladdin_?” 

Harley grinned.

“Wait. Does that mean… I’m the _lamp_?”

“Huh,” Harley mulled it over for a moment. “I guess it does!”

“No way,” June crossed her arms, a small smile tugging at her mouth despite herself. “Can’t I at least be Jasmine?”

“Nah, Louise is Jasmine. You’ve seen how toned her tummy is right? You could eat sushi off that chick. You’re the lamp, Floyd’s Aladdin, and I’m Abu.”

“The monkey?”

“Yeah!”

“Fits, I guess,” June let the conversation lapse for a few minutes. “What about Croc?”

“Croc’s the tiger.”

June let herself laugh at that. She had thought the same thing.

 

========

 

_“Before the dawn of separation_  
_Brings up the wind_  
_Rises around you_.” 

 

“We gotta get you some new duds,” Harley spoke over the song blaring through the convertible’s speakers. They had fallen into a comfortable silence which spanned nearly eighteen miles of featureless scenery and old rock classics which June half-sung along with under her breath. It was only at Harley’s suggestion that June really looked at herself and realized she was still in Belle Reve’s orange inmate fatigues. 

No wonder she drew as much attention as the woman painted up like a clown.

“I don’t have any money,” she replied, struggling to be heard over the radio, but not daring to lower Stevie Nicks for any reason. 

“Neither do I! I still got this car, though. We will find a way through ingenuity and girl power.”

“I’d rather not steal anything,” June said. “I know my record isn’t exactly clean, but it’s all En—” she tripped over her own tongue to back pedal the great mistake she nearly made. “It’s all Her doing.”

“Don’t worry about it! You don’t have ta steal nuthin’. I’ll take care of it!”

June’s heart was racing too hard in her chest for her to do anything but nod and listen to Stevie’s refrain.

 

_“Show me the way back, honey.”_

 

====Y====

 

Through ‘ingenuity and girl power’ Harley commandeered a credit card with a name so impossibly foreign and male sounding that she was just daring someone to catch them. And yet, against all odds, they left a crowded department store with new clothes and no body count. After disposing of her current orange attire in a dumpster behind a seedy looking fast food joint, they rented a room at a nice hotel with a _different_ card Harley had swiped on the go without June—much less the man to whom it had belonged— even realizing.

“I feel guilty,” June admitted as she sat at the edge of one of the beds in the suite Harley had picked out. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Harley rummaged through the mini-fridge located underneath the bar. “This is exactly the reason financial institutions have fraud recovery programs. I’m sure Mr.—” she pulled one of the cards from her pocket and squinted at the name. “’ _Sou-pha-noose-em-phone_ ’ will get his compensation.”

“Still…”

“You worry too much, Junie.” Harley tossed a bottled water her way and then started to undress. “How long has it been since we got to sleep off some retail therapy in a real bed, with a personal shower and TV? I don’t know about you, but it feels like forever for me.”

June stroked the top of the thick comforter beneath her. It was softer than anything she’d slept on in the last two years. 

“I’m gonna scrub-a-dub-dub, don’t go nowhere!” Harley practically hopped, naked, into the bathroom and closed the door behind her. June shook her head in bemusement and laid back. The muffled sound of the shower from behind the bathroom door was the only noise in the room. It was soothing.

The Other was still silent.

June rolled onto her side. It had only been hours ago she had channeled arcane might through her fingertips and been leashed by the threat of a microscopic detonation device in her brain. Now, with the power sleeping and the bomb disarmed, she felt… listless. There had been a scant few times in the past she could recall the Other being so weak from overextending Herself that Her voice became silent. During those times she still felt Her power weighted on her soul like the ceiling of a house which had collapsed and trapped her beneath the rubble. 

Even now she felt the heaviness of Her presence. She could indulge the silence for now, but it wouldn’t last. It never lasted.

By the time Harley returned to the room, June had wrapped her hands around her knees and squeezed her eyes shut so tightly that she had fallen asleep that way.

 

====O====

 

Harley wanted to take them to Gotham.

“That seems like a bad idea,” June said over breakfast, courtesy Mr. Souphanousinphone’s credit card. Harley stacked three mouthfuls of pancake onto her fork.

“Why ya say that?”

“Well, for one…” It was one of the most heavily guarded cities in the United States, with more vigilantes in spandex per capita than anywhere else in the world. That they were wanted convicts, believed to be extremely dangerous, and likely a high-priority for all do-gooders and warriors of justice who just so happened to place Gotham under their protection, made it less than an ideal hideaway. “It’s not a very safe city.”

“Oh, you’re talkin’ about B-man. Don’t worry about him. My honey broke outta Arkham a few months back, and he still ain’t none the wiser,” Harley said through a mouthful of pancake. “’Sides, no one is gonna be lookin’ for plain ol’ June Moone. Or should I say… _Julia Luna_?” She waggled her eyebrows in a poor Groucho Marx impersonation. 

They were going to get caught and get put in the electric chair.

“That’s the worse pseudonym I’ve ever heard. And I guess you’d be _Helen Quinton_?”

Harley gasped. “That’s genius!”

“You’re kidding,” June lowered her fork and knitted her brows together. “Oh, my God. Harley. Please tell me you’re kidding.”

“I love it!” Harley gushed.

“It’s extremely important to me on a personal level that you’re not serious right now.”

“Oh, _Julia_ ,” Harley stabbed another mound of pancake. “You’re such a kidder.”

June watched her in bewilderment.

 

====U====

 

June had been seventeen when she first thought about going to school in Gotham. Gotham University had an exceptional arts program, and the allure of graduating from the alma matter of so many accomplished designers had blinded her to Gotham’s less then safe reputation. When she’d told her parents, they had hit the roof.

As Harley drove them into the city, she couldn’t help but smile at the memory. Even with the stress of an unknown future looming beyond high school graduation, and parents she felt would never really ‘get’ her, it had been a happy time. It was a time before everything in her life was turned upside down and pulled inside out. It was a time her parents still acknowledged her as their daughter. It was a time before Her.

The Other remained sleeping.

June couldn’t help but marvel at the gorgeous gothic architecture of the city. The buildings looked like they came from another time entirely, kept in pristine condition even in a city teaming with mass murdering psychotics. The First National Bank (“Ooh, I robbed that place once!” Harley chirped) had a design which bordered on gaudy, with obsidian gargoyle statues and a massive front awning. The North Library (“Mistah J and I holed up one of the bird boys in there once with a real _page-turner_ of a puzzle!”) was made of stone, glass and ivory, and even the corner-side pizza place (“Biggest. Stromboli. Ever!”) was infused with character.

June loved it all.

They came to a stop at a red light. The car at their side was full of college boys who, to be as cliched as possible, wolf whistled at them. One shouted an obscenity about what he wanted them to do to his body. Harley, who had replaced her Harlequin make-up with some basic lipstick and eyeliner and pulled her hair into a high ponytail, scrunched up her face in disgust. She gave June a cursory glance. “You want to take care of them, or should I?”

“Um… they’re pigs, but don’t hurt them.”

Harley grinned. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” She stood up in her seat and turned to give the men a good eyeful. The hooting grew louder and more obnoxious, and Harley gave them a flirtatious wave. She glanced over her shoulder at June and winked before she reached down and pulled out twin pistols from beneath her seat and let lose a volley of bullets over the hood and wheels of the adjacent car. The men started screaming and shouting, frantic to avoid Harley’s onslaught. 

She flopped back into her seat with a manic laugh and then put all her weight on the gas right as the light turned green. They sped away and veered onto the interstate in the blink of an eye. 

“I didn’t kill ‘em,” Harley assured. “But I’m pretty sure I made at least one of ‘em cry.”

“I… think I’m okay with that.”

June reached over and turned the radio up and smiled when Harley launched right in and sang along with the chorus.

 

====W====

 

“We’re gonna meet with someone special,” Harley announced.

June immediately remembered bloodshot eyes and a crimson smile. She shivered. 

“Harley, I don’t want to.”

Harley didn’t pay her any mind.

 

====I====

 

Harley parked in a mostly empty parking lot and rolled the hood up on the car. She pocketed the keys into her shorts and stepped out of the car with a little flourish. She stretched long and languidly before she came around opened June’s door for her. “Ya comin’?”

June followed her reluctantly around the building and onto the cracked sidewalk. The area of town wasn’t as bad as some they had crossed earlier, but it still wasn’t the sort of place a woman would want to wander around by herself at night. Fortunately, it was just past noon and there was a woman sitting across from the street from them at a little café, reading and enjoying her day, so it seemed safe enough.

The building itself was a brownstone that June would have found incredibly charming under less stressful circumstances. She had always dreamt of living in an old, renovated building. Ideally there would have been a room with a massive bay window where she’d set up her study, the ability to see the twilight in widescreen from her work space the ideal inspiration. 

“Harley,” she pleaded. “We can’t.”

A gorgeous assortment of flowers lined the thin rectangular divots on either side of the small staircase leading to the front door. It was an eclectic collection of colors and types. June had always been interested in gardening, but never had the time to do much outside of what little she had learned while at Belle Reve. She considered herself a novice, at best, but she could swear that so many different plant types in the same divot of soil should have made it inhospitable for life to grow. 

She felt the hum of something otherworldly.

She ground her teeth and balled her hands into fists. _No!_ She repeated it like a mantra in her mind. It was like being on the cusp of vomiting, knowing what was about to occur, but being completely unable to stop it. 

_No, please no. Not now._

Nothing happened. 

Harley rang the doorbell of the brownstone and stood on her toes to stare into the peephole as if she could see something on the other side.

June took a deep breath. The otherworldly hum was still present, subtle, but June had spent so much time with magic that she could sense it. With the fading fear of resurgence, and the threat of a panic attack seemingly avoided, she could tell it was different from what she was used to. In some ways, it was the opposite of Her vile magic. It was not the energy of the Rot; black entropy and death, but a feeling of life and bloom and Green.

From the corner of her vision she saw one of the flowers shy away.

Harley rang the doorbell again. A few moments later the door opened. Remembering where they were, June turned her attention to the person lingering in the doorway and was relieved to find it was not the ghoulish face of a clown that greeted them, but the form of a gorgeous red-haired woman. It was a woman June had met before.

“Red!” Harley cried, “I’m home.”

“Harley.” Pamela Isley—Poison Ivy—greeted with a slight smirk. “Welcome home.”

 

====L====

 

Pamela’s home was the sort of place June had dreamed of living ever since she was a child. A little heavy on the greenery, maybe, but everything else—the almost rustic quality of the interior to the elegant arrangement of the furnishing—was picture perfect. 

“I heard about your escape,” Pamela said as she led them into the kitchen. “It’s been all over the news.”

“Oy, I can never keep away from the paparazzo for too long,” Harley laughed and sat at the small table in the dining nook adjacent to the open kitchen. 

“Clearly,” Pamela opened the fridge and pulled out a can of soda. “I went ahead and got your favorite. You’re welcome.”

“Oh my god! You are the best Red!” Harley leapt from her seat and took the cold can from the taller woman. She almost scampered back to her seat but then seemed to think better of it and instead threw her arms around the other woman’s neck and pulled her into a passionate kiss.

June flushed and looked away. She had heard the two were close, just not _that_ close.

“Okay, Harl,” Pamela chuckled. “Save some for later.”

“Ooohh, you _minx_ ,” Harley danced back to her seat with an impish smile. “I’ve got a flower that needs some… tendin’ to.”

June had never wished she was back in Belle Reve more than she did in this single moment.

“First things first, Harley dear. I’m glad to see you, obviously, but I have to admit some displeasure about your recent life choices,” Pamela turned her gaze to June. “You know how I feel about strays.”

Otherworldly magic—life Green—radiated from deep within Pamela. June could sense it just beyond the range of her human ability. It might have even been comforting, if a deep recess of her mind didn’t automatically recoil from it out of necessity. It wasn’t like the immense force of the Swamp Thing—June could place that power immediately without Her help—but more like how June herself served as an avatar of the insidious dark magic of the Other.

June wondered if Pamela was enslaved by a greater force, just as she was.

“Junie disabled the bombs Waller put into our brains. She saved me, so I’m savin’ her. _Mi casa es su casa_.”

“You’re not using that correctly,” Pamela said.

“Am I not? Huh. Guess now ya know I failed French in high school.”

“I’m sorry,” June blurted out. “I don’t want to cause you any trouble. I can go.”

One of Pamela’s perfect eyebrows arched curiously, and she silenced Harley’s rash attempt to assuage her. “You want to leave?”

“I don’t want to cause anyone any more trouble than I already have,” June clarified. 

“Well, it’s a little late for that, isn’t it?” Pamela went about brewing a pot of tea. “Like I said, it’s all over the news: a massive breakout from the maximum-security prison Belle Reve, believed to be orchestrated by some of its most dangerous inmates. Your pictures are on every nightly news program from here to the east coast. You’re national headlines.”

“We didn’t break outta Reve, though,” Harley scowled. “Ohhhhh, right. Cover-up.”

“Very good, Harl.”

“Anybody else manage to escape?”

“Yes. Aside from the two of you, both Deadshot and Killer Croc are listed as missing.”

“Croc?” June asked.

Pamela poured the boiling water into two small floral-themed teacups. 

“Aw, I hope they’re okay. I was close to Junie when it all went down, so I didn’t know if it got everyone else or not.”

“And what, exactly, is it that happened?”

Harley explained how Raven and June’s alter-ego had a magic duel (“It was all super Harry Potter.”) which had caused a minor explosion which had somehow deactivated the explosive devices in their brains. Pamela listened patiently—seemingly used to the frequent asides Harley took before she reached the point—and afterward handed one of the cups of tea to June.

“Oh, thank you,” June took it. To her surprise her hands weren’t shaking.

“And the bombs are deactivated permanently?” Pamela leaned against the counter, her own cup of tea in hand. 

“I guess so!”

“You _guess_.”

“Well, we ain’t gone up like the fourth of July yet, so that’s a good sign, ain’t it?”

“I suppose,” Pamela sipped her cup. “So, you brought a stray home because you felt… indebted?”

“Something like that,” Harley frowned. “I mean, June and I are friends. Friends help each other.”

“Friends don’t usually have to worry about one another becoming sociopathic magic-wielding hags, either.”

Harley knitted her eyebrows together and took a long swig from her soda. “Red, have you met our friends?”

June, who had sat quietly as the two women talked about her, nursed her tea cup to her chest with both hands and finally spoke. “I don’t plan on staying.”

“Junie, no! Don’t take what Red says to heart. She’s just protective is all.”

“Is that all?” Pamela raised an eyebrow. 

“No, it’s okay,” June stared into the amber liquid in the small cup. She could barely make out her own distorted reflection. “It’s dangerous to have me around. I should… I will go.”

“Pammy looks mean, but she’s more bark than bite,” Harley assured. She promptly ignored Pamela’s rebuttal. 

“No, it’s not… Ivy—Pamela—is right. It’s not safe for me to stay here. I don’t… I don’t even know why I left in the first place. I just… I guess…” June’s body shook with a frustrated sigh. “I just don’t know.”

“Junie…”

“It’s quiet now, but I know it won’t stay that way. I can still sense Her. She wouldn’t like it here, and I know that, and that’s how I know she’s still there.”

“The Green,” Pamela said as if realizing something for the first time. “You can sense it.”

“Somewhat,” June glanced at her for just a moment before she returned her gaze to the cup in her hands. “It’s her antithesis. If she’s surrounded by it then she might try to come out. Forcefully. I don’t want her to hurt you.”

The room fell quiet. Even Harley seemed at a loss for words, so she chugged the rest of her drink down noisily. The uncomfortable silence broke at the sound of her slamming her can down on the table. It crunched and fell into itself. She smiled sheepishly when Pamela narrowed her eyes at her. She turned her attention back to June, hoping to reason with her, “I know it’s hard, June.”

“No,” June cut her off. “You really don’t have any idea.”

Harley’s smile fell away and Pamela left the room. The two newly-minted partners in crime sat in another uncomfortable silence. June felt like crying, but she’d had a harder and harder time making tears come in the last year. She doubted now would be any different.

Pamela returned a few minutes later with a duffle bag in her arms. She dropped it at June’s feet. June looked from the bag to Pamela with confusion. “What’s this?”

“It’s yours,” Pamela said, outstretching her hand and taking the half-undrunk tea from June. She turned away and crossed the kitchen to place it in the sink.

“Pammy, is that a bug-out bag?” Harley leaned over the table to get a good look. June glanced at her, then pulled the zipper at the top of the bag open to reveal a swath of cash, tightly-bound, which filled the inside to the brim. Her mouth hung open.

“Think of it as compensation for seeing Harley home safely,” Pamela said without turning around. “An act of good will from one woman to another.”

June was speechless. She had worked with Pamela on Task Force X briefly, and it hadn’t been a particularly pleasant experience for either of them. She would never have expected…

“Junie, say somethin’!”

“T-thank you,” She stuttered, her face flush. “Pamela, this is, it’s too generous, I—”

“It is,” Pamela agreed, “but it’s yours now. Don’t dare try to give it back to me. That will just make me angry.”

“Ooh, Red’s got you there,” Harley grinned. “She’s almost scarier than She-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named when she’s angry.”

June forced a hollow laugh at Harley’s joke.

 

====L====

 

June dreamt of a rainbow submerged with festering black rot and a planet overrun with decay.

 

====N====

 

June was tempted to stay for breakfast—Harley’s insistence was incredibly enabling—but she could tell by Pamela’s cold reception to the idea it would be best not to push her luck. Instead, she took the duffel bag full of money and stood at the door leading into the unknown of Gotham with next to no idea what to do with herself once she left. 

“This man can help you find a place to say,” Pamela said as she handed June a worn looking business card. “He’s quite discrete.”

“Oh, uh, thank you.”

“Oh, Junie. I’m gonna miss you,” Harley’s big blue eyes were wet with tears. She blew her nose on a comically large hanky and then threw her arms around June in a crushing hug. “Don’t forget tah write!”

“Harley—breathe—can’t—dying!”

“Let the poor thing go, Harley dear. You don’t want to kill her before the Wall does.”

Harley released her on command, reluctantly, and sniffled. “Be careful out there. There’s a lotta weirdos in this town.”

“I will,” June said. She shouldered the duffle bag. “Pamela, can I ask you one question before I go? You said Croc was reported missing. Did the news give any indication as to where he might be?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“We’re—”

“They’re in love, silly!” Harley sighed dreamily, “It’s sooooo romantic.”

Pamela had not expected that answer; her face, her posture, even the way she opened her mouth and couldn’t make a sound proved it. June couldn’t stop the flash of defensiveness that came to her.

“He’s a wonderful person.”

“A wonderful cannibal. Yes,” Pamela still seemed shocked. It would’ve been hilarious if it hadn’t irritated her so much. “They haven’t said much. Just that he’s been sighted in Gotham.”

“So he’s here,” June said, more to herself than the others. “Great, thank you.”

She opened the door to Pamela’s brownstone and, with the heavy duffle bag slung over her shoulder, stepped out into the new unknown.

 

====E====

 

She grabbed a bottle of black hair dye which joined thick-framed glasses and other sundries in the shopping basket on her arm. While waiting in line at the check-out she overheard a woman gossiping with her friend about a sighting of Croc near the docks. She pulled the hood of her jacket tighter around her face and kept her head down.

 

====V====

 

Sherman Fine A.K.A “The Broker” was as intimidating as he was professional, and to her surprise he recognized her through her dark-hair-and-glasses disguise. 

“It’s my job to recognize my clients,” he said as he flipped through a book filled with information. “What were you thinking? I have an affordable abandoned magic store in the upper part of the city, or that tarot themed new-age casino that went under last month.”

“I… just want a regular place. An apartment. Something small that will keep me off the police’s radar.”

The Broker made a small noise of consideration in his throat and closed the book on his desk. “A discrete apartment. Is that all?”

She _did_ have more cash with her than she’d ever had in her entire life.

“Well…” she smiled self-indulgently, “something with a bay window would be great.”

 

====E====

 

“It’s perfect!” 

“I’m pleased it’s to your liking,” The Broker handed her a fake ID with her picture but a different name. She looked at it with confusion. “Think of it as a first-time buyer’s perk.”

“T-thank you.”

“A social security card will come in the mail,” The Broker checked his wrist watch. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting with the Riddler at three. He can be quite temperamental if I’m not punctual.” He tipped his head towards her. “Please consider us in the future for all of your rental needs.”

She watched him leave her in her perfect one-bedroom studio with a bay window overlooking Gotham Central Park. When the door closed she looked back to the card in her hand and the dark-haired, bespectacled version of herself who stared back at her.

“May Sun,” she read aloud. 

Then she laughed.

 

====R====

 

Two months passed in the blink of an eye. She found a job at a coffee shop in the mornings and worked at a local bookstore in the evenings. She responded to being called ‘May’ eight times out of ten, furnished her apartment with the sorts of things she’d always dreamed of owning, and drafted up a plan for opening an independent web design freelance business.

She believed this was actual happiness.

“ _In other news, a grisly site met dock workers Thursday morning when the remains of a man were found just outside Gotham’s prestigious St. Anne battle ship_.”

June turned from where she was hunched over her computer to look at the TV playing across the room. _Gotham Insider_ ’s host, Summer Gleeson, recited the story like someone would list off items on a grocery list. From what June remembered, Croc had once mentioned he had courted the anchor long before they had met. June didn’t know what he had seen in her, other than her gorgeous auburn hair, perfectly symmetrical face, and wonderful eyebrow game. 

June reached for the remote.

“ _Workers said the man’s body was not intact and that he appeared like he had been ‘half-eaten’ by a ‘large, wild animal._ ’”

June halted.

“ _With reported sightings of Gotham serial killer Waylon Jones—more popularly known as Killer Croc—rising in the past weeks, the police are urging anyone who expects to—_ "

June rose from her seat and began pacing. The irony that Croc’s one-time love interest was reporting a story that was, in all likelihood, about him was not lost on her. Not that it was what was important right now. Croc had been on her mind frequently since she had begun her new life. She had daydreamed about reuniting with him, bringing him to her studio and cuddling up on the couch while watching a movie. About the smell of him making dinner for her after a long day at work, or how they could hold-hands in the afternoon and go on a stroll through the park.

She thought about him all the time.

But then something would happen. It would be something small, but it would jolt her back into her new reality. Someone would call her ‘May’ and she would fail to respond, an unknown number would call her phone and take her breath away, a police officer would walk past, and she’d fight off an anxiety attack. She would have a nightmare and wake up lashing out and in a cold sweat.

June Moone was a criminal. A highly dangerous criminal who escaped from Belle Reve and was a recurring star on America’s Most Wanted. It was June Moone who was in a relationship with Waylon Jones. 

And June Moone would never be free.

May Sun was a law-abiding citizen. She was quiet and polite and had regulars at the coffee shop who liked her. She was half-way through the fifth book in a six-book series and had convinced three of her book store patrons to pick it up too, so she’d have someone to talk to about it. She had a business model in development to break into her dream job. A cute guy in her building had asked her out for coffee.  
May Sun could do anything.

If she wanted to keep this precarious life she was trying to build for herself, brick-by-brick, then she could not be June Moone ever again. Which meant…

She padded her way into the kitchen to retrieve a glass, which she then took into the bathroom and filled with water. A hefty bottle of max strength pain reliever sat dutifully right beside her toothbrush. She opened it, palmed two thick white capsules, and glanced at her reflection.

_A withered woman with rotted flesh and dead stars for eyes smiled._

June’s hands went limp and she didn’t even feel the glass shatter and cut her bare feet.

 

====B====

 

June didn’t draw any attention to herself when she visited the docks on her break between jobs; why would she? She wore yoga pants, a hoodie and a pair of tracks. She looked like any other of the countless joggers who ignored the media’s warnings about running through dangerous places unawares. A fog misted over the area and became thicker the closer she drew to the water. Still, she moved with determination, not coming to a stop until she’d nearly stepped off the dock and plunged into the freezing depths below.

Three people had been found in the area ‘half-eaten’ as if ‘by a large animal’. The GPD’s attempts to cordon the area off with bright yellow tape went ignored by the half-a-dozen gangs who called the docks their stomping grounds, and the foolish yuppies who lived in the city and refused to shy away from the wolf sitting in their living rooms. 

June was ready to grab the wolf by the scruff and drag him home.

She waited for a while, unable to see more than a few feet beyond her own face, but nothing happened. If she listened intently she could hear a brittle death rattle of a laugh behind her, just loud enough to be heard over the waves.

 

====E====

 

The man working the counter of the Big & Tall outlet at the edge of the city watched her with disbelief. She realized she was easily the smallest person in the building, by a large margin, but she squared her shoulders and refused to break eye contact with the skyscraper-person she was speaking with. 

“Do you have these in a larger size?” She held up a rain boot that she could have easily fit both of her feet into if she’d tried. 

“We might… have some in the back,” the man forgot to smile. “I could go check.”

“That would be great,” June said. “Thank you.”

“Sure,” the man smiled back, just barely, and disappeared into a door behind the counter. Only a minute later did June think that his subdued reaction may not have been due to her size, but because he recognized her face from the multiple times it had been shown on TV in the last few months. 

Whoever had told her that adding glasses made for an instant disguise was so very wrong.

The man returned with the boots in a size larger. This time he smiled, just enough, and hers was returned, just barely. “Here you go, ma’am. Shopping for your daddy?”

June clenched her teeth. “My boyfriend,” she corrected. 

“He’s a lucky man.” 

June added the boots to the pile of clothes in her basket and hurried to find the nearest cash register.

 

====R====

 

“Name?”

“Janet.”

“Okay Janet,” she wrote the _Janet_ in sharpie on the outside of the cup. “We’ll call you when it’s ready,” she turned around to place the order and heard the bell ring. “Name?”

“Billy.”

“Okay Billy,” she turned and smiled at the new customer, took a cup from the dispenser, and wrote _Billy_ on the outside. “We’ll call you when it’s ready,” she turned around. The bell rang. “Name?”

“ _Enchantress_.”

“Okay Enchan—” she swung around, eyes wide. There was no one there.

 

====I====

 

“May? May…? Hey, May!”

She turned at her door, her eyes narrowed, and keys held rigid in her fist. It was the guy in her building who had asked her out for coffee over two weeks ago. Her guilt at avoiding him made her loosen her standoffish stance a little, but she half-turned back to the door to show that she wasn’t planning to stand around and chat.

“What’s up? I haven’t seen you around much lately.”

“I’ve been working a lot,” she fumbled with the lock. “Sorry about that.”

“No, it’s cool,” he crossed his arms, a wan smile on his face. “For a bit there I thought you might not…”

“No, it’s just work,” she was already stepping into her apartment and closing the door behind her. 

“May?”

The sound of the lock snapping into place signaled the end of their conversation.

 

====D====

 

She visited the dock every afternoon for three days straight. 

 

====O====

 

“ _Charity woes in Metropolis last night as the supervillain known as Metallo crashed a soiree attended by philanthropic giants of industry. It was only thanks to the sudden appearance of Superman that_ —”

June pulled on her flats and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She had a few minutes before she needed to leave for her second job, but she was running behind schedule due to a recent onset of insomnia which had left her sluggish the last few days. 

“— _Metallo was apprehended, and the money for the sick children returned. Back to you Jack_ —”

She stepped into the bathroom and adjusted her camisole, did a once over of her appearance, and returned to the living room where she grabbed her purse off the couch.

“— _Iwillreturntothatplaceiwillreturntothatplaceiwillreturntothatplaceiwillreturntothatplace_ —”

She pulled her apartment key out of the ceramic bowl by the door.

“— _Thanks, Summer. Now time for a segment we like to call: Fact or Fiction_?”

The door closed with an audible click.

 

====F====

 

The Other whispered a warning.

June turned around but saw no one else in the apartment hall. The light near the stairwell flickered. The super really needed to look at that. She shrugged off the weird sense of paranoia that crept along her veins and unlocked the apartment door. She stepped inside and found the feeling didn’t subside, though it didn’t grow any worse either. It was irritating.

She went through the studio and flipped on the lights in every room. Everything was where she had left it. Nothing looked out of place. It was untouched since she had left that morning. She was sure of it.

The Other whispered a warning.

 

====M====

 

June was beginning feel creatively bankrupt. The commission she had taken sat open on her desktop screen, its blankness accusing. She ran a hand through her hair and tried to focus but everything she came up with seemed lackluster and well below the ability of what the client was expecting. She went to take another sip of coffee to find the cup already empty. 

This wasn’t working.

She left the computer to sit at the bay window and stare out into the darkness. It was raining outside—weather which usually proved a perfect muse—but all she felt was a disquieting emptiness.

Though not true emptiness.

The blurred specs of lights from the lampposts of Gotham Central Park looked like stars fallen to earth from her window. She watched them for a long while until she came to a decision. 

She traded her pajamas for jeans, a warm blouse and a raincoat and pulled her hair into a ponytail. She almost took the thick-framed glasses but decided to leave them. She wanted to be recognized.

The anxiety at the pit of her stomach fluttered like a butterfly with sodden wings, but she swallowed it down. All the things she had now were for May. She wanted just one thing for June. It couldn’t be too much to ask.

The Other laughed at her. 

 

====E====

 

June didn’t see the yellow police tape until she had nearly walked into it. The fog had grown especially viscous from the heavy downpour of rain, to the point June had to take every step carefully to make sure she didn’t stumble off the pier. The last few murders had taken place here, and though she imagined Croc probably alternated his hunting pattern to remain undiscovered, this was her best—her only— bet.

The rain and the waves were cacophonous and despite how jarring it should have been, it soothed her nerves. The moon was entirely hidden by heavy clouds and it felt almost as if the night itself was prepared to fold in on her and consume her entirely.

It felt like… home.

“No,” June said aloud. “This isn’t me. You have no power over me.”

Thunder sounded in the distance.

“I’m going to take something for myself and you can’t stop me. This is for me.”

_Everything you have is mine. Everything you love I will destroy._

“Who are you talking to June?”

June snapped to attention and whipped around. The combination of rain, darkness and mist muddled her vision and she could see nothing but the hazy lights of the nearby warehouses in the distance. She tensed. The Other’s warning was voiceless but guttural, like it came from the depths of her stomach and reverberated inside her own ears. 

“Who’s there?” She couldn’t keep the fear from her tone. A long uncomfortable moment passed until there was movement in the darkness and a tall cowled man stepped into sight. He moved like a phantom, his cloak pitch as the night. He was close enough she could reach her arm out and touch him. 

“Don’t.” He commanded the moment she opened her mouth. His face was completely emotionless as he watched her. She closed her mouth immediately, realizing this was his way of disarming her. “You will only speak with I say. If you try to speak Her name, then you’ll wake up back at Belle Reve before you can get through a single syllable’. Nod if you understand.”

She nodded.

“You’re looking for Killer Croc. Why?”

She hesitated. “Why—”

“No questions.” He interrupted pointedly. “Why?”

“I…” She wasn’t sure what to say. How could she put how she felt into words? It seemed like an impossible task. “I want to take him home.”

“You’ve started a new life for yourself, June. Associating with a criminal like Croc is the wrong decision if you’re trying to rehabilitate.”

“I can help him,” she said. Her voice sounded more unsure than she felt, a byproduct of the chill of the rain and the dark shape of the man before her. 

“You’re not qualified to help yourself, much less a murderer like Croc.” 

His words stung. June’s cheeks flushed with shame and anger, but of the two the anger burned brighter. “We can help each other!” 

“How?”

“We—” The anger sizzled immediately, and she felt her shame grow as she realized she didn’t have an answer for him. She felt like a scolded child. They stood in tense silence until he spoke again.

“I understand you're always fighting. I want to help you. And Croc.”

“You want to send us back to Belle Reve,” June clenched her fists and met his eyes. She wanted to turn away from his hard stare but willed herself not to. She refused to be cowed now. She’d seen worse in the mirror. “You want to let Waller put us back on that horrible death squad.”

“No,” his voice betrayed no hint of emotion. “I’m against the idea of Task Force X entirely. I want to help you. I’ve watched you ever since you came to Gotham. Initially I was going to take you into custody, but I saw you try to have a normal life.”

“You… you were watching me?” She starred, slack-jawed. “How? I…”

“I have my ways,” his tone shifted slightly. He almost sounded … amused. “You’ve been acting distant lately. The Enchantress—she’s not gone, is she?”

June hesitated. 

“I can help you,” he repeated. “But I need you to help me.”

“What… can you do? No one can help me." She wrapped her arms around herself. 

“June.” She flinched when he reached toward her, but all he did was gingerly set a gloved hand on her shoulder. It rooted her back to the present and she shivered from the cold. “I have friends who are well versed in the magical arts. I can take you to them. I can keep you safe from Waller.”

“What about Croc?”

“Croc is a criminal,” His voice was cold and his words concise. “You had no control. You were forced to commit crimes against your will. There was nothing you could do. Croc has a choice. Every person who he’s killed, every life he’s ruined, every terrible thing he’s done—Croc chose to do it.”

“… What will you do to him?”

“I’ll take him to Arkham,”he lowered his hand from her shoulder and some of her tension left with it. “The facilities there are best equipped to handle him.”

“Waller will try to get him again. She’ll make him her slave.”

“I won’t let that happen.” 

The Other repeated his words over and over and over and over.

June met his eyes again. She searched for the lie. After a heavy pause she was the first to turn away.

 

==== _canyouhearmejune_ ====

 

The pipelines in the Gotham Sewers made up a massive labyrinth of corridors and passages that seemed to stretch on forever. Rust and filth caked the lining of the walls and floor, and the darkness was only cut through by the sharp beams of the light which came from their flashlights. Croc had famously made his hideout in the tunnels that run under Gotham City for years. Even if the entire GCPD canvassed the area they wouldn’t be able to cover every hidden nook in a single day—and Croc had used that to his advantage.

They weren’t the police, nor were they a force of any sort. They were just two people: wanted felon June Moone and the Caped Crusader himself, the Batman. June had encountered Batman few times over the years—primarily in combat when Task Force X and the Justice League had crossed paths, and once when Gotham nearly became a nexus of necromantic magics before Waller had been able to subdue Her. To be together as they were now, wading through the muck of Gotham’s catacombs, was a strange and awkward affair.

June wasn’t sure about any of this: her agreement that she would attempt parlay with Croc so that he would willingly go to Arkham (a place she knew he had been horribly abused and tortured in the past), trusting the dark knight to keep his end of the bargain and not turn her and Croc over at his first opportunity to face Waller’s wrath or daring to feel even an ounce of hope that Batman’s “friends” would be able to do something about Her.

The Other cackled in the deep recesses of her mind.

How Batman had known her location and intentions she couldn’t figure out. Was her apartment bugged? Did he find Harley and get the information out of her? She just didn’t know. Her every attempt to live a normal life, as heartfelt as they had been, had always felt precarious in the knowledge she risked discovery at any moment. Now that she’d been found out she felt—not relief exactly, but trepidation.

“What if Croc doesn’t agree to come with us?” She asked. Her jeans were soaked through half-way to her knees, her hair was heavy and wet, and her hands were trembling from the chill. It was proving to be a long night.

“If he doesn’t agree it won’t change the fact that we need to find a solution to your problem.”

“No, I’m not worried about me. I meant, what will happen to Croc?”

“I’ll result to force, if I have to.”

June stalled. “Please… don’t hurt him.”

The tunnel fell off abruptly into a large reservoir with countless entryways into other tunnels yawning open like a dozen drooling mouths. The water which had pulled at their feet washed over in a heavy stream and into the bottomless darkness below. Batman held his arm out to signal she should stop and leaned forward with his light to get a glimpse of the area ahead. The barest glimpse of moonlight filtered through something high above and gave the reservoir an eerie quality. 

“Come here,” he held his arm out to her. She obeyed wordlessly and padded her way closer. Nervously, she slowed when she was within striking distance but at that point he pulled her close to him and she gasped in the surprise. He pulled a grappling hook out from his belt and, with her pulled tightly to his side, hoisted them across the open gap and to the mouth of a different tunnel. She cried out in surprise and clutched to him tightly, her hand bunching his cape in a death grip and only let go when she was certain there was solid ground beneath them once more.

“Let’s keep moving,” like before she couldn’t say for certain, but he almost sounded amused.

It took less then two minutes to find Croc. More accurately, it took less than two minutes for Croc to find _them_. The wall at their right exploded in a shower of brick and fragments of steel. Batman drew his cape back to shield them from the debris, the spray of shrapnel bouncing harmlessly away. A massive figure filled the newly born hole in the wall, and with speed unexpected from such a large form, rushed into Batman and took him from his feet and through the opposite wall entirely. June watched in bewilderment. One second Batman stood protectively before her. The next, she stood alone.

She heard a familiar guttural, animalistic sound and cautiously approached the newest hole. She could see the adjacent waterway, Batman, still in the air, weightless, landed with a splash. The massive figure—Croc—stalked toward him like a hungry predator.

“Waylon!” She called and carefully climbed over the jutting out stalks of barbell as she joined them. Croc’s advanced ceased, and he turned on her. He gnashed his teeth, and his jaundiced eyes narrowed but after a moment, realization softened his rage-shadowed features. 

“June?” 

“It’s me,” she had tears in her eyes, unexpected and hot. Croc turned his entire attention on her, his shoulders tense. The bottoms of her jeans were soaked, she was covered in grime and in the middle of a _sewer_ , but Croc stared at her as if it was Wonder Woman herself who had come for him. June’s heart jumped.

“June!” He growled. His heavy footsteps sent the water flowing through the tunnel up in geysers as he came to her and swept her into his thick, scaly arms. She threw her arms around his neck and let him twirl her before he rested his head against hers. They held one another, and the rest of the world faded into the background. “You came for me.” 

“Of course I did,” She told herself not to cry any harder than she already was. 

“I looked for you,” he swore. His breath was hot against the nape of his neck. “But I didn’t know where to look.”

“That doesn’t matter now,” she felt his arms tighten, but he remained gentle. He was always so gentle with her. “We’re together. That’s what matters.”

His heavy breath told her that he agreed.

For the short time they held each other they could pretend there was no one else in the world, but it could not last. The Other was laughing at her even now.

“Croc.”

Batman. He had risen and now kept his cape drawn around his frame, changing him into a barely visible shadow amongst the darkness. If serving as Croc’s ragdoll had hurt his dignity, it didn’t show. 

Croc gripped her to his chest protectively. She tensed, hoping to quell his anger. “I couldn’t find you on my own. Batman found me, though, and—” the words spilled from his mouth in a rush of emotion. Croc squeezed her shoulder with his massive hand and smiled at her with his too many elongated teeth. 

“It’s okay, June. What do you want Batfreak?”

“You’re going back to Arkham.”

Croc gnashed his teeth. “I’ll die first!”

June cringed against him. “Croc…”

“I can’t go back!” He said to her, eyes wild. “You know what they did to me there. They treated me like I was… I was… some sort of _animal_!”

“What would you expect? _People_ don’t live in the sewer and cannibalize their victims,” Batman said, as if he’d expected this argument. 

June wanted to speak in Croc’s defense, but she didn’t have time. Croc released her and stalked towards Batman, his body language making his violent intentions clear. 

Batman warned Croc to stop but went unheeded. Calmly, he lifted his hand and exposed a detonator with one gloved finger poised above the trigger. Croc paused. “One more step and you’re on your way to a killer headache. We can do this the hard w—”

Croc ran forward with a roar.

Batman tapped the trigger.

The explosion shook the walls and sent a plume of acrid smoke over them. June cried out and fell over, cutting her hand open on some debris. Croc flailed and plunged into the darkness below, his howl of fury resonating through the bowels of Gotham. Batman shielded himself with his cape until the smoke cleared. 

The Other’s frenzied whisper at her ear was low and consistent, and offset by the shrill ringing left in the explosion’s wake. June blinked her eyes to clear her blurred vision, but it had no immediate effect. The pounding at her temple was great, and when she reached up a hand to press down against it she left a red smear on her face.

Through her haze she watched Batman approach the hole in the ground. The massive form of Croc leapt halfway through it and grabbed him by the ankles and dragged him down into the darkness below. She tried to blink away the spots that burned the form of translucent archaic sigils in the air. Her legs quivered when she stood. It was as if all her energy had suddenly fled her. It was a fight just to reach the edge of the hole and sink to her knees. The water rushed past her legs and fell through the hole in a man-made waterfall. She could see sparks of light below, but her vision was too unfocused and the light too dim to make out what was happening.

The energy she had lost tingled at her fingertips and spread through her palm in a warm, inviting return. Ghostly runes etched themselves into everything: the walls, the ceiling, the very water that split around her and sank into the depths below. She closed her eyes and heard the Other approach from behind. She felt Her hands grip her shoulder just as Croc had done moments before and shivered at Her weight as she leaned in close.

“ _Borrow my power, June._ ”

She opened her eyes and the runes, the dread, and the Other were gone. The light on her palm spread across her entire body like a washed-out filter and lifted her to her feet. She steadied herself and blinked away the last bit of fogginess from her brain.

June took a breath to quell her racing heart and stepped into the hole. She sank slowly down towards the next level, the light of borrowed magic seeing to her safety. The water rippled around her feet when she gently touched down and the light receded back to her palm and then faded away entirely. 

Batman, who now had long gashes, wet with blood, from Croc’s claws run through the side of his bodysuit and a tattered cape, evaded a rush from the behemoth who swung his arms around like a breathing death machine. He dropped a smoke bomb, but Croc was on him as it dispersed and used one of his massive hands to trap Batman on the ground. His mouth opened, globs of saliva dripping from his open jowls, and the smoke burst around them and took them from sight.

June tensed. She heard the taser before she saw it and smelled the horrid scent of burned flesh right as Croc howled in agony. Batman escaped from the smoke, weary but determined, and had to bend his knee momentarily to cough. He took a deep breath and then took notice of her. 

Croc thrashed out of the smoke in a berserker rage. His claws caught the side of a pipe which ran along the length of the wall and slashed it open effortlessly. A heavy spray of water smashed into him and took him off his feet. He landed on his backside with a crash. He groaned but did not attempt to get up.

Batman let lose a breath he had been holding and rose to his full height. Even battered and bruised he possessed a sense of dignity that bordered on superhuman. He turned to June with a tense expression, which turned into momentary surprise when she approached him without hesitation. She passed him without even a glance and knelt at Croc’s side. The water from the pipe smashed into his chest relentlessly. It spurt forth with enough force to break a man’s bones, but Croc was merely winded. 

He made a small, whining noise in the back of his throat and blinked when June leaned into his vision. He closed his eyes when she pressed her hand against his leathery face. His arm twitched to cover hers, but he was too exhausted. She knew that, even with his horrific diet, he had not kept his strength up and had likely been fighting on reserves from the start. 

“I’m sorry, June. I made a mess of it.”

“It’s okay,” she leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. Her lips caught the taste of salty sweat. 

“I don’t wanna go to Arkham.”

“I know. You won’t.”

June had turned her gaze to Batman. He watched her withdraw her hand from Croc's face and stand, righting herself against the Dark Knight with resolve. 

“June,” he warned. “Don’t do something you’ll regret.”

“It’s too late," she said. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “I shouldn’t have let you come down here.”

“June, think about what you’re doing.” She watched Batman’s hand slowly inch toward his utility belt. 

“I’m sorry, Batman,” she closed her eyes. “I really, truly, am.”

Batman gripped a batarang between his fingers and flung it at her.

“ _Enchantress._ ”

Ghost sigils and runes spread across her vision and black tendrils of Rot slid over her body and submerged her into a crypt of magic and decay. Her body burned with malevolent green light which spread over her like an unholy flame.

The Other sang into the darkness as she emerged into the world reborn.

**Author's Note:**

> Her voice comes between the lines


End file.
